Obituary of Karl Varnai

Karl Varnai, 92 of Warren, NJ, died Monday, July 6, 2015 at home. Surviving are his beloved wife of 70 years, Elizabeth; son and daughter-in law Karl and Elizabeth S. Varnai of New Hope , PA; daughter and son-in-law Esther and George Skic of Hopewell Twp, NJ; seven grandchildren: Ellie Hansen, Erika Schoenberg, Christine Varnai, Peter Varnai, Erin Quinlan, Thomas Skic, and Matthew Skic; seven great-grandchildren: Eva , Heidi, Lesl, Anika, Krista, Ashley and Kaitlin. Also a sister, Magda Nadai, of Canada and niece and nephew, Emoke and Zsolt, also of Canada. The funeral mass will be held on Friday July 10 at 11 am with viewing preceding, from 10 am to 11 am, at Our Lady of the Mount Roman Catholic Church in Warren, with Fr. Sean Kenney officiating. Interment will follow at Holy Cross Cemetery , Mount Airy Rd., Basking Ridge, NJ. The artistry of a man who appreciates his freedom By Ellie, published Nov 8, 2001, Echoes Sentinel Holding a cement trowel in one hand and a brick in the other, he works like an artist. It's like watching a graceful dancer, only it's a man's rough hands and his bricklaying tools performing. The custom-designed brick patio is almost complete. Everything from the patio floor to the outdoor grill is designed with brick. "Wow," I said as I glanced at the photos the proud owners took of their new patio. No doubt, the job was done by the hands of a talented and experienced craftsman. The hands of my 78-year-old grandfather, Karl Varnai Sr., of Warren Township . He packs his tools. Done for the day, he climbs into his pickup truck and he ads home. But he'll be back tomorrow. As a young girl, I remember visiting many of my grandfather's construction sites, bringing him coffee, doughnuts and buttered rolls for the morning work break. Big houses, small houses, additions, patios, decks. You name it, he built it . Watching my grandfather one morning a few weeks ago whistling cheerfully, grabbing his coffee and lunch and heading off to work, I saw a man who finds such fulfillment in his work that he keeps on working while most men his age have long since drifted into retirement. "Why?" I once asked him. "It keeps me in shape," he said, patting his stomach proudly. What he didn't say was that he loves his work. He loves his freedom to work. He is living the American dream working with his hands, building and using his talents freely and peacefully. This may not sound as important to you or I, but to my grandfather, it is. You see, there was a time when he had no freedom, no peace, no dream. My grandfather is a Hungarian immigrant. He was one of the thousands who poured into the U .S. in 1956, escaping the wrath of the Soviet Union's army during the Hungarian revolution. The revolution was a heroic national liberation struggle against communism by Hungarian citizens who just wanted to live freely. But the overpowering Soviet armies trampled Hungary's efforts to acquire freedom and a more democratic way of life. It would keep Hungary in a perpetual state of communism for another 30 years. It would rob my grandfather of his house, his land and his job as a carpenter, and very nearly his life. On Christmas Day, Dec. 25, 1956, my grandfather, his wife and two young children stepped off a crowded American airplane into the U.S. It had not been an easy journey. Leaving all of their belongings, parents, brothers and sisters behind, they had literally run across the Hungary-Austria border to safety, barely escaping the Soviet armies that will pillaging their small, rural hometown. Now they were in America, wondering how to eat the bananas U.S. Army soldiers were handing to them. Bananas, along with the English language, were foreign to them. How does one build something from nothing? You gather some tools and materials and get to work. First, my grandfather learned English, and in the process acquired a job in a plastic hose factory, where speaking skills weren't as important a s simple manual labor. But word soon got out that my grandfather had been a carp enter in Europe, and the need for his particular skills grew. Only a year after arriving, my grandfather began to get back what he lost in his Hungarian homeland his job as a builder. He built a house for his family, brick by brick. To this day, it remains one of the most attractive houses in this now upscale suburban neighborhood. He also built his son's and daughter's houses, stone by stone. Now, 44 years later, he mainly builds for friends and family. He takes on smaller jobs that don't require as much physical strain. Impressive, though, for a man of 78. His love and appreciation of freedom and America are qualities all of us can build on.